


Death Rattle

by BleuWaters



Series: Reader Deaths [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 'for fun', F/M, I wrote it for fun, Wow, there's nothing redeemable here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 12:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12841092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleuWaters/pseuds/BleuWaters
Summary: Clint Barton x reader. A narrated memory of how he lost his wife.





	Death Rattle

“ _Clint, someone's in the house._ ”

“Get into a closet and stay absolutely silent. I'll stay on the line; I'm on my way.”

“ _Clint, they're coming…_ ” Your voice was barely more than a rasp of shaking breath.

“I'm almost there. Four minutes. Can you get out of the house?”

“ _No_.” Your voice takes on a faint keen as tears jerk to your eyes.

“Make that two. I'm going to stop talking; you be quiet, too. I'm still here.”

For another tense few moments, all that can be heard is your frightened, tear-streaked breaths and a frustrated grunt from the archer as he turns a sharp corner.

There's a scuffle on your end, and then there's screaming. Scared, frantic, horrifying screaming. Screaming that makes a person's stomach hurt. Screaming that turns blood to ice in a person's veins.

“Baby, I'm coming!” yells Clint, “I'm coming!”

There's a vague formation of his name in the recording of the phone call, blurred around the edges, but there. Then a harsh cut off of your voice, turning it deathly quiet, interrupted by labored, gasping breaths.

Breaths that count the moments before the cease of your existence on earth.

Clint bursts into the house, his phone discarded haphazardly in his car, yours dropped in the closet.

You lay at the end of the bed, your left hand placed over your ribs, your right up by your face, the fingers curled loosely. Your left leg crosses over your right in an informal figure four. You’re wearing your pajamas printed with steaming coffee cups, and the shirt sits unevenly against your abdomen.

Your face is relaxed, quiet; your eyes, dark and empty. Sticky crimson surrounds you like a thick cloud.

“Clint. Clint?”

The man looks up, clicking his phone's power off.

“What do you want, Nat?” he asks softly, running his fingers through his hair.

“Clint, you gotta stop doing this to yourself,” she replies, crouching in front of him and pulling the phone from his hand.

“Doing what?” he mutters.

“You know what,” she says.

Clint shrugs.

“It's not your fault,” she insists.

He shrugs again, his jaw tight, his eyes dry with exhaustion. He pins Natasha down with his stare, and she takes a breath, fully aware of the abysmal pain hiding within her partner.

“Tell that to her,” he whispers.

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo. Well, if you 'enjoyed' it, leave kudos and comments. <3 love you guys


End file.
